


of cabbages and kings

by intrajanelle



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Alternating, The Bitter Cat/Chicken War of 2018, The Southern Reach AU, i said i wouldn't write but i did, lighthousekeeper!Andrew, runawayfisherman!Neil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-21 23:41:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14295993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intrajanelle/pseuds/intrajanelle
Summary: Andrew is a bored lighthouse keeper on the Forgotten Coast. He tends to his garden, feeds the gang of stray cats that prowls his lawn, and occasionally parents the scrappy town orphan. He doesn’t need anyone else.Or: Neil Josten moves to town.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [squidwithelbows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/squidwithelbows/gifts).



> hello! the title is from The Walrus and the Carpenter by Lewis Carroll. the plot is very very very loosely based on a plot from Acceptance by Jeff VanderMeer. unlike Acceptance, it will be mostly fluff, with some hurt/comfort. sadly, no aliens will be making cameos in this. so i apologize to the diehard Southern Reach Trilogy fans (heather). 
> 
> this is also dedicated to heather, for making me finish and also the chickens. 
> 
> i am almost done writing it, i expect it to be 4 or 5 chapters. enjoy!

The lighthouse on the Forgotten Coast wasn’t always lit at night, sometimes Andrew forgot. Or slept through his shift, or didn’t stock enough fuel, or just didn’t give enough of a fuck to climb the entire winding staircase to light a bygone lamp for the single fishing boat that ever scavenged his corner of the ocean.

This was the case tonight. He could have lit the lighthouse and sat out his shift on the balcony of the tower, watching the ocean, listening to the braying wind. Instead he went for drinks at Eden’s Twilight. No one was very surprised, even though there were about two dozen people in town and all of them knew where he was supposed to be. They’d stopped fighting him years ago. Even Abby, whose own husband, Wymack, was currently captaining the town’s lone fishing enterprise on the pitch dark sea at this very moment, just sighed when she noticed Andrew sitting at the bar.  

The bar—which was a counter in the daytime when Eden’s was a diner, pushed against a wall some evenings when Eden’s was a dancehall, a long table whenever someone rented Eden’s out for a birthday party, and anything it needed to be for Roland to make money—tilted under Andrew’s slight weight. Roland tried to catch his eye as he slid over Andrew’s drink, but Andrew wasn’t in the mood. Instead of signalling Roland with a complicated series of glances and drink-stirrer innuendos Andrew stared out the window, and Roland got the idea.

Three seats away Kevin Day was sprawled across the bar, four empty glasses beside his head and a fresh bourbon in his loose hand. The terrible thing about Kevin was that he was attractive. The alright thing about Kevin was that he was unemployed, with little to no ambition, never asked questions that weren’t about himself, and was generally useless. All these things considered, if Wymack was night fishing he usually took Kevin with him. Father-son bonding and all that.

“Why are you here?” Andrew asked, trying to sound as disinterested as possible.

Kevin lifted his head from his arms to look at Andrew.

“Why are you?” he asked.

“I’m drinking,” Andrew said.

“So am I,” Kevin replied, apparently just drunk enough to be surly.

“There’s a new fisherman in town,” Abby said, taking a seat between them. She gestured to Roland for a cherry coke. “He took Kevin’s shift, he’s staying at Matt’s place.”

“In Boyd’s shed, you mean,” Andrew corrected her.

Matt Boyd lived on the edge of town, in a small beachfront bungalow with his fiancée. He had been trying to rent out the “pool house” on his property for years, but no one would bite because it was a single room with no windows or plumbing. A shed. If there was a poor fool renting it, Andrew didn’t think they would be for long.

The most intriguing part of this story was that someone had moved to town. No one had moved to the Forgotten Coast in three years and that had just been Kevin. Everyone had already known Kevin.

Andrew quirked an eyebrow at Abby, hoping she would elaborate. Luckily, she seemed to understand. She rolled her eyes.

“You can just ask for gossip, Andrew,” Abby remarked. “His name is Neil Josten. He’s about your age, short, ginger hair, his face is scarred. Says he has no family. He’s a smidge jittery, too. A little like you when you first came here.”

“I wasn’t jittery,” Andrew said, taking a swig of his drink.

“And I’m not a nurse,” Abby said. She ruffled Kevin’s sweaty hair and then went to join the other old ladies at their pool table.

Andrew stewed over his drink for awhile. Everyone in this town was a busybody. He’d come here to get away from people, to be out in the middle of nowhere and get a little lost. He hadn’t known at the time, that if he wanted not to be noticed he should have moved to a city. It was harder to hide in a place where he could count the number of residents on his fingers and toes. His presence was bigger here than it ever would have been if he’d moved to Columbia, like Nicky had wanted him to.

He stayed for the lighthouse. He didn’t particularly enjoy keeping a log of everything that needed to be fixed and then fixing it, or tending to the lighthouse’s garden, or keeping things tidy in case the NRHP decided to check in on him. He really didn’t enjoy keeping the light lit, night after night, or all the cleaning that running a huge light bulb entailed. He didn’t really enjoy anything anymore. But the routine was nice. And sometimes, at night, when he was keeping watch, when he had a cigarette in one hand and the rail of the catwalk in the other, when he could see the stars, he could forget for a few moments. Who he was and why he was here. It all washed away—and all he could feel was the wind, the cold, the bite of the bricks digging into his back.

This was the safest place he had ever found. He planned to keep it that way.

 +

Andrew was at the marina the next day, waiting for Wymack’s boat to dock, when Robin found him.

Robin was eight years old. She was kind of Wymack’s kid, kind of Abby’s kid, and kind of Bee’s kid. Her real parents had died when she was born. As a result, the entire town took care of her. Bee homeschooled her, Roland threw her birthday parties, Matt and Dan took her to play soccer and drove her into Columbia to visit museums. 

Andrew did not sign up to co-parent the town child. But Robin hadn’t gotten the memo. Sometimes she appeared at his side, expecting parenting and Andrew couldn’t muster the energy to stop her.

Today, there were many questions.

“What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at the lighthouse? Where’s Wymack? Have you seen my cat?” Robin asked, without pause for breath.

“You don’t have a cat,” Andrew said, putting out his cigarette. He was a monster, but he didn’t want to have a part in giving a child cancer.

“I do,” Robin nodded solemnly. “His name is King Fluffkins. He’s very small. Bee says his name is moronic.”

“She probably said ‘ironic,’ but either way I agree,” Andrew said.

“So you haven’t seen my cat?” Robin said. She looked up at him with wide curious eyes. 

She was probably talking about one of the cats that were part of their local cat gang. A crew of spoiled feral cats, that wandered the town begging for scraps. They belonged to no one. And they were probably better fed than Andrew. This King Fluffkins, especially, if Robin was feeding him. They lived in the woods outside town and made regular appearances throughout the day, along main street, down to Eden’s, then they circled past Matt’s bungalow before stopping at the lighthouse to bother Andrew. 

“King Fluffkins will probably be in town soon. Wait for your dad,” Andrew said, before Robin could run off to the center of town by herself.

For a town with three cars, they had a surprising number of traffic accidents.

Andrew pulled out a candy bar and offered Robin half. They sat in silence as Wymack’s boat, The Palmetto, slowly pulled into the dock and tied up for the day.

Her crew departed at a sluggish pace, tired from a long night on the ocean. Matt and Dan left first, leaning on each other. 

Dan tossed Andrew a middle finger as she passed, before taking Boyd’s hand.

Andrew of five years ago might have stabbed her. But today he let her go, flicking a responding middle finger at her back. Bee would be so proud.

“Andrew, not in front of my kid,” Wymack called from the bow.

As Renee and Allison headed down the loading ramp, laughing softly about something or other, Andrew noticed the newest member of the Palmetto crew. 

He wasn’t hiding behind Wymack, but he was making an effort to stand in the man’s shadow. He had a bandana tying his hair back and was wearing the crew’s standard bright orange rubber overalls. The color clashed horribly with his reddish hair. Despite the painful scarring across both his cheeks and the haunted look in his eyes, he was the most beautiful man Andrew had seen in years.

“Hi Neil,” Robin called from behind Andrew.

Neil didn’t respond, but he did wave bemusedly from behind Wymack. Robin knew Andrew didn’t like to be touched, so she was doing her best to peek around him without any contact.  It was like witnessing two outdoor cats, inspecting each other, wary at the prospect of company.

“No hello for your dad?” Wymack asked. As he came down the ramp, Robin went shrieking into his arms. He spun her for a sec before she wanted to be let down.

“Dad, dad, dad, Andrew said King Fluffkins is in town! Can we go get him, right now, please, I did my homework already,” Robin said in a flurry.

Wymack frowned at her.

“Why is there chocolate all over her face, Andrew?” Wymack asked, throwing Robin over his shoulder.

Andrew gave Wymack a neutral stare as he took another bite of his candy bar.

Wymack sighed.

“Neil, this is Andrew Minyard. Andrew, Neil Josten,” Wymack said. Then, as he passed Andrew, muttered, “Please don’t chase him away, he’s a damn good fisherman.”

“Damn!” Robin yelled, scandalized.

“Damn,” Wymack sighed in defeat.

As Wymack and Robin trudged down the docks toward the pier Andrew watched Neil Josten. He’d shimmied out of his overalls. The flannel shirt and jeans suited him much better, which didn’t help Andrew’s mood. His fingers were wrapped around the strap of a worn duffel bag and they too were scarred. Andrew wondered how much of this man’s skin was puckered with burns. A man like that could only bring trouble wherever he went.

Neil went to brush past him, but Andrew caught his duffel strap. 

“No hello?” Andrew said.

“You didn’t say hello either,” Neil replied, without meeting his eyes.

“Not a promising start,” Andrew said. “Eden’s. Tonight. 7 o’clock. If you don’t show I’ll drag you from Matt’s shed by your bandana.”

“Why?” Neil asked, finally returning his stare. 

Neil Josten’s eyes were unnerving. They were the color of the sky on a relentlessly hot day, a pale, uncaring blue. Andrew hoped they were on the wrong face.

“Because,” Andrew answered. “We’re going to get to know one another.”

+

On his way to Eden’s, Andrew tried to tell himself that he’d worn his skinny jeans and favorite sweater when he vetted Boyd. So it wasn’t like he’d dressed up because it was Neil. Just because he was wearing his fancy studded arm bands and the cologne he’d found at the back of his dresser, it didn’t mean anything. He was just doing what he always did when someone new moved to the Forgotten Coast on his watch. He was making sure they weren’t a threat by getting them trashed so they’d spill all their secrets. This wasn’t a date.

All of his convincing arguments went out of the window when he saw Neil.

Someone had dressed the man in tight pants and a light blue button-up. His hair had also been arranged with gel, so it artfully hung over his face. And he knew someone else had done it because Neil looked like he didn’t know how to move. It resembled Allison’s work. 

This entire thing stank of a set up.

Roland stood behind the bar cleaning glasses, but the rest of Eden’s was conveniently deserted for a Saturday night. This was literally the only place in town to go on a weekend. So unless the rest of the residents suddenly got TVs, computers, a love of reading, or drove an hour to Columbia, Andrew was suspicious.  He was even more suspicious when Roland made them their drinks and then preoccupied himself cleaning the wine case on the other side of the room. Andrew was certain that case hadn’t been cleaned in five years.

“So what did you want to talk about?” Neil asked. He was staring at the hems of his sleeves, pulling them over his fingers. 

“Who dressed you?” Andrew asked.

“What?” Neil said, looking up, startled.

“Those aren’t your clothes,” Andrew pointed out. “You don’t seem the type to do your hair.”

“Fuck you,” Neil muttered, “I can do my hair,” then, “They’re Dan’s clothes. Allison said I had to dress up.” He took a sip of his diet coke. 

That was another thing, Roland had left them with non-alcoholic drinks and then immediately fled. If this was a date Andrew was going to kill everyone in this miserable town, and then himself. He took a wretched sip of his Shirley Temple.

Neil sighed. “Is this a date?”

Andrew stared at him.

“I’m not good at these things, if this is a date you have to tell me,” Neil said. He paused, words caught on the tip of his tongue. “I don’t swing.”

“It’s not a date,” Andrew said. 

“Then why am I here?”

Andrew clenched his jaw. To ease his nerves he lit a cigarette and took a drag. He pretended he couldn’t feel Roland’s miffed eyes boring into the back of his head. The least Roland deserved right now was having his bar stink of nicotine.

“We’re here because the people in this town have the self-preservation of fruit flies. We’re here so I can assure you aren’t a danger to this place, or me. Depending on your answers to my questions, then we’ll see if you’re allowed to stay.”

If possible, Neil’s face went even more blank. Where Andrew had seen awkward wariness, he now saw the calculated way Neil scoped the room. Without looking up from the table he checked all his exits, he brushed his fingers against his sides as he crossed his arms. So he was armed.

“I thought you were just the lighthouse keeper,” Neil said.

“I am  _ also  _ the lighthouse keeper,” Andrew corrected.

After a pause Neil licked his lips. He seemed to hit a wall in his line of thinking, because the calculations in his cold blue eyes ceased and he sighed deeply. “Alright, I’ll answer your questions, but you have to answer some of mine.”

Andrew mulled this over, he hadn’t allowed that for the others. But the others hadn’t had nearly as much baggage as Neil seemed to. And they hadn’t asked. He acquiesced with a nod. “A truth for a truth.”

They sealed their arrangement with sips of their disappointingly non-alcoholic drinks. 

“So, where do you come from?” Andrew asked.

“Baltimore. Maryland.” Neil shivered. “But I haven’t lived there in ten years. I moved all over.” He swirled his can on the counter. “What’s your favorite candy?”

Andrew narrowed his eyes at him. 

“Robin told me you liked candy,” Neil shrugged.

“You’re wasting your question on that?” Andrew asked, but Neil didn’t budge. “Fine, it’s Snickers. Why did you move so much?”

“My father wanted to kill me. My mother wanted to keep me alive. So we ran,” Neil said. His eyebrows scrunched. “Wait, is this diet coke? Gross.”

“Where are your parents now?” Andrew demanded.

“It’s my turn. What do you do at the lighthouse?” 

“I am it's keeper,” Andrew said grandly.

Neil did not appear impressed.

Andrew sighed. “I tend the garden, I fix the cracks, I plunge the toilet. Sometimes, at night, I even turn on the light for the Palmetto. It's a losing battle, that tower is falling apart. One day it's going to finally crumble, hopefully crush me in my sleep.”

Neil nodded along until the end, then he frowned. He seemed to have another question, but remembered that it was his turn.

“My parents are dead,” he said.

Andrew could tell this was the truth because Neil’s shoulders loosened, like he’d just remembered he was safe.

“I didn’t ask my question yet, that was a free turn.”

Neil spluttered. “You just asked that.”

“Almost a minute ago,” Andrew said. “I’d moved on, I had a different question.”

Neil’s cheeks were flushed in annoyance. His ears were stark red against his pale neck, they looked hot to the touch. Andrew wanted to kiss them.

“Fine. Ask your question,” Neil grumbled.

“Why are you here?” Andrew asked. He was chewing on the cherry stem from his drink, knotting it with his tongue. Trying to ignore Neil’s stress-bitten lips.

This was the question he’d been wondering since he’d first seen Neil. He was a runner with nothing left to run from, so why move to the Forgotten Coast? This was where people came to disappear or die. 

Neil shrugged. “I had no home, no family, no job. I ran as far as I could and when I looked up again I was here. I was in the forest outside town, a little lost, and the lighthouse was lit. It led me to the beach. When I woke up the next day, Wymack was standing over me. He gave me his breakfast and offered me a job.”

Neil shrugged again. “I’m tired of running.”

Andrew mulled this over for a moment. He didn’t entirely believe Neil. He couldn’t. Neil had presented himself as a liar and a runaway, he couldn’t have thought Andrew would take everything he said at face value. But for reasons unexplainable beyond that Neil was attractive, Andrew wanted him here. There was an itch under Andrew’s skin, he hadn’t made the mistake of trusting someone so quickly in a very long time. He wouldn’t start now.

So he told Neil he could stay.

Then vowed to keep him at arm’s length. And he never broke his promises.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: ideation of death in the first three paragraphs of this chapter. 
> 
> i'm sorry this update took so long, i cannot figure out how to insert fanart?? oh well, i will just insert it all in the last chap at this point haha. thank you all for reading! and enjoying! i really appreciate all of your kind comments. i just have to write the epilogue but otherwise this fic is done, so i will try to update regularly.

Neil Josten did not understand how a town with barely twenty people, could smother him. He’d arrived on the Forgotten Coast with a duffel, two sets of clothes, one pair of sneakers, five million dollars hidden in the folds of a binder, and no name.

When Wymack had found him on the beach he’d been considering how long it would take to decompose. He hadn’t eaten in days, hadn’t had water in so long he could barely speak, he thought he had a pretty good head start on putrefaction. He dug his hands and arms into the sand, in an attempt to bury himself. There weren’t many people left that wanted him dead, but there were zero left that needed him alive.

Just as he’d settled into the idea of a meandering death, Wymack was there blocking out the sun.

“And here I thought I was approaching a corpse,” Wymack said, sounding baffled. “What are you doing out here, kid?”

“I’m 22,” Neil said, frowning.

“Good for you,” Wymack said, handing him a bottle of water. “You’re also dehydrated.”

At first Neil brought the bottle to his lips warily, he didn’t know who this man was. What if he had worked for Neil’s father. Then, almost as soon as the cool water reached his throat, he drank with desperation. He spent long minutes, after, trying not to throw it all back up again.

“Deep breaths, kid. Here,” Wymack said. He handed him a banana and a sandwich, from a lunch pail.

“I’m fine,” Neil said, shaking his head. He didn’t want to steal this stranger’s lunch.

“Uh-huh and I’m a beauty queen,” Wymack said. “Take the food.”

While Neil ate in small bites, chewing carefully, hunched in the sand, Wymack sat beside him. He told Neil he owned a fishing boat. Asked if Neil knew how to fish. If he could swim. If he needed a place to stay.

Yes, no, and not really, were Neil’s answers.

He’d fished for food on the run, with his mother. He did know how to swim, but swimming after having his head held underwater until he’d nearly drowned multiple times had made it an unpleasant pastime. And he could camp, he didn’t need a roof over his head.

“Well, at least one of those was the truth,” Wymack said with a shrug. “Come on, kid, I know a place you can bunk. Has a lock on the door and everything.”

Neil followed the man, if only because he had nothing left to lose.

+

Matt Boyd greeted Neil like an old friend. He hugged him and then released him when Neil asked him to. He showed Neil the “boat house,” which was a glorified shed. He introduced Neil to his fiancee and Wymack’s first mate, Dan Wilds.

Between Wymack, Matt, and Dan, it wasn’t long before Neil felt as if he was a stray cat who’d been accidentally adopted. He was still rather feral, though. He preferred staying in the shed with the deadbolt locked firmly in place and perusing his binder, than having dinner with a bunch of near strangers.

And yet. Here he was at dinner with Wymack, his wife, Abby, their assumed daughter, Robin, and whatever Kevin was. He was wearing a shirt and tie Dan had lent him. Matt had trimmed his hair. For once he had no sutures, no band-aids, no fresh bruises. When he gave a small smile at something Abby said, he felt the burn scars on his cheeks tug. He’d had these scars for months and hadn’t realized smiling stretched them.

Abby insisted Neil take some scar ointment home with him. And that night, when Neil got settled on his cot, in his shed, freshly showered, ointment applied, in clean pajamas, with four separate locks firmly promising to keep him safe while he slept, Neil realized he liked it here.

Wymack had called this place the Forgotten Coast, but Neil finally felt as if he’d been found.

Then he met Andrew Minyard.

He’d heard of the lighthouse keeper. He’d heard that he was solitary and irascible. He’d heard that he gardened and fed the cat gang and kept Robin company. He’d heard he liked sweets and alcohol and men. Everyone in town seemed to have something to say about the lighthouse keeper. But whether it was good or bad, the consensus seemed to be that the town couldn’t imagine itself existing without the keeper in his lighthouse.

So when Neil finally caught a glimpse of Andrew Minyard at the docks, he was wary. Everything he’d heard about this man and here he was. And he was short.

Shorter than Neil, even. With unruly blond hair and freckles across his nose. He was wearing a sweater with jean shorts, even though it was April and still cold by the ocean. His feet were bare. He looked less like an adult with an important job and more like a changeling who’d stumbled out of the woods to wreak havoc.

From behind him, Robin waved. So Neil did his due duty to wave back. The girl had chocolate smeared all over her face but her brown skin looked otherwise unadorned even in the harsh morning sunlight.

No one on this coast wore sunscreen and Neil was mildly appalled by it.

Once Wymack and Robin left Neil alone with Andrew, Neil did his best to brush past the man. Even though he knew Andrew was here for him. Neil had been on a fishing boat all night, hauling in the catch until the sun rose. Then he’d had to help deposit it down the coast to sell before heading home. His limbs felt overcooked and clumsy and he had no discernment left for his first encounter with Andrew.

“No hello?” Andrew asked, catching Neil’s duffel strap as he passed.

Neil said something undoubtedly aggrieved. Andrew looked amused.

Once they were done staring at one another and trading barbs, Andrew loped down the dock, back to his lighthouse. It was then that Neil realized that, like it or not, he had a date tonight.

Upon giving this news to Matt and Dan, two of their ship-mates were immediately called upon. Allison and her girlfriend, Renee. Both women made Neil leary. Allison was both practical and extravagant, and she had no qualms about running her fingers through Neil’s hair or slinging an arm around his shoulders. Renee looked charming but Neil could see a cold indifference in her eyes, this made her a potential threat.

Whether or not he liked it, Dan dressed him in some of her fancier clothes. Then Allison got to work on his hair, she made Matt’s simple haircut more artful, and then arranged his curls over his forehead. When she brought the eyeliner to his attention he feigned a horrible allergy to makeup. He didn’t need to stand out any more than he would in a pale blue dress shirt.

By the time he was ready to go, he felt like a kid leaving for prom. All of his new acquaintances were gathered by the door wearing matching grins.

“Be home by ten!” Matt called.

“Matt, he’s been good,” Dan protested. “Ten thirty.”

“I hope you both have a lovely evening,” Renee said.

“Use a condom!” Allison shouted after him.

Faintly, he could hear Robin asking, “What’s a condom?”

He didn’t think the others had known she was hiding in the shrubs, and now they were groaning. Somewhere on the other side of town Wymack could probably sense something foul in the air.

He headed off to his date, knowing that despite everything at least he hadn’t taken part in corrupting Robin tonight.

+

Twenty four hours later, Neil still wasn’t sure if it had been a date. He was on the Palmetto, leaning over the side, making sure the netting was in place. He was studying the knots but he was thinking about Andrew’s clothes. Neil had seen Andrew twice now, the first time he’d been dressed in jean shorts and last night he’d worn skinny jeans. Skinny jeans and a skin tight black sweater, with studded arm bands. He’d smelled like freshly chopped wood.

Neil was not terribly perceptive when it came to dating or potential partners or flirting. He’d spent most of his life not allowed to date and it hadn’t been a hardship. It was never something that peaked his interest. Then last night, he’d seen Andrew in those clothes, watched Andrew’s mouth turn bright pink from his drink, and he’d known that if this wasn’t a date: he wanted it to be.

The problem was that Andrew was in his lighthouse—which Neil could see from his perch on the boat, a thin slip of black against the clouded horizon—and now that he’d decided Neil could stay, Neil couldn’t find a reason to visit him. Beyond asking Andrew on another date.

Which was, obviously, impossible.

“It’s not impossible,” Matt said, after Neil told him his dilemma.

“Well, you’re no help,” Neil said.

Matt laughed. “Do you really want me to sit here and tell you that you’re living out a tragic romance and can never see Andrew again, because he’s locked away in his tower by his evil step-mother?”

“What? What are you talking about?” Neil asked, alarmed. If someone had locked Andrew inside the lighthouse, they needed to go help him.

“Nevermind, bad reference,” Matt said. “Just go ask him on a date.”

“No,” Neil said. “That’s terrible advice. How did you get someone to marry you.”

“Because I asked her on a date. Many, many times,” Matt said. “I respected her boundaries, of course, and listened when she said no. But I made it very clear that I wanted to date her. If you want Andrew to be your boyfriend, you need to make a move.”

“I don’t want him to be my boyfriend,” Neil said, scrunching his nose. “I just want to see him again. Maybe hold his hand. We can kiss if he wants, but I’m not too torn up about it if that’s not his thing.”

Matt stared at him for a moment. Then he shook his head.

“I’m locking you out of the boat house until you ask him out,” Matt said.

“You can’t do that, Boyd, I pay you good money for that shed,” Neil said.

“Are either of you coat hangers gonna haul fish today?” Wymack asked, appearing directly behind them.

Matt let out the burliest of shrieks.

“I don’t pay you both to gossip,” Wymack said.

“But captain, Neil came to me for advice,” Matt said. “I couldn’t leave my bro hanging.”

“I will hang you from the bow if you don’t get back to work,” Wymack said.

Matt immediately scurried away to help Dan with the nets. Neil went to join them, but Wymack caught his shoulder.

Wymack looked a bit harassed, rubbing the back of his neck, not meeting Neil’s eyes.

“Minyard’s not especially good at asking for things he wants,” Wymack said. “We’ve all lived with him long enough to recognize when he’s steeling himself to give something up.”

Neil was quiet for a moment, before he understood.

“Andrew doesn’t want me,” Neil said.

“Aw, kid, if only that were true,” Wymack said. He heaved a huge sigh. “This is definitely above my paygrade.”

Neil stared at him uncomprehendingly. He was pretty sure his captain/father figure was telling him to ask their antisocial lighthouse keeper on a date. But he had to be misinterpreting Wymack’s intentions.

“Ask Minyard on a date when we dock, or Matt will do it for you,” Wymack said.

Right, then. Neil was not misinterpreting. He put his head in his hands and prayed this conversation would be over soon. Twenty people in this town and Neil was being smothered.

+

Robin escorted him to the lighthouse later that day. The sun was headed for the horizon, lighting the ocean in shades of orange and pink. The cat gang had taken up residence on the lighthouse’s lawn. They prowled the garden and lounged in the dying rays of sunlight, on rocks and patches of crabgrass.

Andrew was sitting on a lawn chair, among them. He was wearing a visor, sunglasses, and, miraculously, a sheen of sunscreen. When he saw them approaching he shoved the newspaper in his hands under his arm, collected his chair and one of the cats, peeled across the lawn and closed the lighthouse door firmly behind him.

“Why does Andrew hate you?” Robin asked. She was sucking a lollipop and her hair was coming undone from its pigtails.

“Which one is King Fluffkins?” Neil asked back, to distract her.

Robin immediately waded into the cat gang, searching for the scrawny one with one ear. When she found him, she held him over her head—to King Fluffkins disagreement. Neil, who was at the lighthouse’s door by then, gave her a thumbs up.

Neil knocked. Upon his twelth attempt at knocking, there was a disgruntled sigh from somewhere inside. Around knock twenty Robin had dubbed a huge poofy cat with three legs, Sir Fat Cat McCatterson. Knock thirty-five elicited loud swearing and Neil instructed Robin to head home without him. By the time Neil had given up knocking and was just sitting on the front steps, watching the sunset, Andrew came out for a smoke.

He sat on the step in front of Neil and did not look back at him as he lit his cigarette. Not even when he asked, “Shouldn’t you be fishing?”

“Kevin took my night shift,” Neil said.

Andrew nodded his understanding, but did not ask any further questions. He smoked one cigarette, then stamped it out and lit another.

“Those things will give you cancer,” Neil said.

“You could give me cancer,” Andrew said.

“Charming. Do you want to go on a date?” Neil asked.

Andrew choked on his inhale, which made Neil feel weirdly giddy.

“With me,” Neil clarified when Andrew did not respond.

“Why should I?” Andrew asked, finally turning to give Nail a baleful stare.

“You don’t have to.” Neil shrugged. “But I liked the other night. I’d like to see you again. And you live in a lighthouse, the only way to get you somewhere else is to proposition you.”

Andrew was silent for a few moments. Then he said, “I thought you didn’t swing.”

Neil shrugged. “I don’t.”

When the conversation seemed to have trickled to a stop, Neil looked back out over the ocean. It really was beautiful here. The cat gang was retreating to the woods. To the side of the lighthouse’s living quarters was a small garden that smelled like lavender. Neil could see a plump cucumber making a bid for escape through the short white fence. Several yards out, the cliffs gave way to the ocean. Once, this place might have been a mile from the coast, now it was close enough to spit at. Despite the impending assimilation of the sea, the lighthouse stood confidently at their backs. An imposing black spire, all of its cracks filled and painted over in black, just like its keeper. Who stamped out his last cigarette and tugged his black sweater further down his arms.

“You can come in for coffee,” Andrew said. “Coffee. And then you should leave.”

“Sure,” Neil said, smiling. His scars barely twinged anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: some stitches and a brief panic attack
> 
> thanks for reading once again! we're almost there! one more chapter + the epilogue

Neil Josten had lived on the Forgotten Coast for six months and Andrew couldn’t get him to move out of Boyd’s shed.

There weren’t any other places to rent, so unless Neil wanted to buy or build a house, which he didn’t seem keen on doing, the only obvious solution was to move in with Andrew.

Andrew, who had spent the last six months opening himself up by degrees to this man. Andrew, who had exchanged truths for truths. Andrew, who had promised to protect Neil. Andrew, who hadn’t asked for anything of anyone in years. Andrew asked Neil to move in with him and Neil said no.

So there they were, Saturday evening, sitting across from each other at Eden’s Twilight. Their first “no” hanging between them. Eden’s was a cafe at the moment, Roland was making eggs in the back kitchen.

“Well fine then,” Andrew said, “stay in your poorly ventilated shed forever.”

Neil let out a gust of air. “Andrew, you like having your own space. I don’t want you to have me all over you, all the time, just because you feel bad I live in a shed.”

“I don’t feel bad for you,” Andrew said. “You deserve to live in a shed.”

“Andrew,” Neil whined. “I appreciate it, but I can’t. It would make me feel bad.”

“Worse than the pinched nerve you’ve got from that cardboard box you call a bed?” Andrew asked.

Neil, who’d been casually strewn across their table, stilled. He looked up guiltily, like he really hadn’t expected Andrew to notice. 

Andrew scoffed, he lit a cigarette. Roland shouted that he couldn’t smoke in a restaurant and Andrew ignored him.

Neil had been in pain all night, which had prompted Andrew to bring up moving in the first place. He’d been thinking about it for awhile, of course, mulled all of their options. Neil wasn’t wrong, Andrew did like his space. But as the months wore on, he liked having Neil in his space too. It helped that he knew, unconditionally, that Neil would make himself scarce if Andrew asked him to. There weren’t many things in his life that didn’t have conditions, the novelty wasn’t lost on him. If only he could explain this to Neil, while keeping his blithe facade intact.

“If you don’t move in with me, you’re an idiot,” Andrew said. 

Neil threw up his hands in exasperation and tautly maneuvered himself towards the counter. Most likely to coax alcohol out of Roland even though they technically weren’t in a bar.

“Shouldn’t you be somewhere?” Bee said, sliding into Neil’s vacated seat.

Sometimes Andrew forgot she wasn’t Robin’s biological mother. They had the same eyes and freckled noses, the same penchant for asking questions they already knew the answers to.

“Neil’s not on shift tonight,” Andrew said, nodding toward the counter. Where Neil had convinced Roland to give him a shot of rum.

“I see, so with Neil not on board the Palmetto magically gains the ability to light its way home,” Bee said. 

Andrew shrugged. “You know I don’t care about that.”

“Uh huh,” Bee said, taking a sip of her milkshake. When Andrew first arrived on the Forgotten Coast Bee had been his therapist. Years ago, she’d been a guidance counselor, which was as close to a trained medical professional as Andrew was going to get this far from the city. Now, they had sessions when Andrew needed them but were mostly just aggrieved friends.

“Just say what you want to say, Bee,” Andrew said. He wasn’t in the mood to talk in circles.

“I’m just proud of you,” Bee said. “I never thought you’d trust anybody again and here you are, asking a man to move in with you.”

“So. You heard everything,” Andrew said. This whole town was full of busybodies.

“I was sitting at the table right next to you, this whole time,” Bee said. “I heard everything.”

Andrew sighed, deep, from his soul. 

“Hey Bee,” Neil said, pulling a chair over. He sat slowly, he could barely move his neck. Even though they’d just been arguing Neil held out his hand to Andrew and Andrew took it, twining their fingers together under the table. “What’s up?”

Neil’s breath smelled like rum. Andrew loved Bee but he really wished Eden’s was a bar tonight. So the lights would be dim enough for Andrew to back Neil into a corner with no one the wiser.

“We were just discussing the Palmetto,” Bee said. “Hope the haul tonight is good. David said last week was bad for night fishing.”

Neil wrinkled his nose and began explaining to Bee just how bad it had been. Something about the tide and the currents. Andrew remembered Neil telling him after his shifts last week, but he also remembered tugging Neil toward his bed and pressing his shoulders into his pillows. He remembered placing his mouth on Neil’s neck.

The fish hadn’t been so bad after that. 

Over the next week Andrew and Neil were decisively not fighting. But all of their interactions were plagued by Andrew’s judgemental silence and Neil’s adamancy that he was absolutely fine, and there was no need to move into the lighthouse.

This led to many a foolish undertaking by Neil, to prove he was fine. Including, helping thatch Wymack’s roof, carrying Allison’s things out of and back into Renee’s house when the two broke up and rekindled three times over the course of two days, volunteering to fish Robin out of the ocean after she chased a wayward cat, and last, but certainly not least: Volunteering to break up a fight between the chickens and the cat gang. 

The chickens and the cat gang had stoked a bitter rivalry, ever since Bee had adopted the chickens almost five years ago. No one could remember who had started it. The chickens certainly thought they were the ones who had been victimized, if their indignant clucking whenever they so much as smelled cat pee was anything to go by. The cats didn’t like to think of themselves as victims, but it was clear they felt morally offended by so much as a chicken sandwich.

Occasionally, the two sides duked it out on Main Street. Usually leaving the dirt road covered in chunks of fur and bloodied feathers. This could be expected to happen at least once a month, when Bee led her flock to graze in the common for the afternoon. Why she even bothered anymore was a mystery to the rest of the town. Everyone agreed that Bee just  _ really  _ liked her eggs free-range.

So, naturally, Bee’s chickens and the cat gang got into a particularly nasty fight right in front of Eden’s Twilight. Normally, no one would intervene lest they lose a finger or an eye. But Robin was with Neil and Andrew in the cafe and was worried for King Fluffkins and Sir Fat Cat McCatterson. So into the fray Neil waded.

An hour later saw Neil on Andrew’s kitchen table, being sewn up by Abby. He had a large gash on his forearm, a bloodied nose, and a limp. Also, he had fully induced Andrew’s ire. If Neil wasn’t currently being pieced together, they would officially be in a Fight.

King and Sir, both with less hair and new bits missing from their ears, curled around Andrew’s legs. They had followed them inside after being saved and began making themselves at home, like they had no intention of returning to the outside world. Little did they know Andrew only had room for one stray in this house.

“You should be all set now, but I don’t want you on the boat for the rest of the week. Not until the stitches are out,” Abby said, closing up her kit.

Neil went to protest but Abby shushed him.

“And I’ll be telling David my prognosis, so don’t even think about going behind my back,” Abby said. She nodded at Andrew, collected her things, and left.

The silence between Andrew and his boyfriend grew thick with tension. 

“Andrew—” Neil started.

“If you won’t move in with me, buy a house,” Andrew said. “Build a house. Something. Anything. You cannot keep being this stubborn. I promised to protect you, even from a slow meandering death from living in an uninsulated, unheated, unfurnished hovel.”

Neil worked his jaw. Andrew couldn’t tell if he was building himself up to argue or give in. 

“I can’t leave the shed,” Neil said.

“Why?” Andrew demanded.

“It’s my home,” Neil said, in a small voice.

Andrew stared at him with rising exasperation. Then he took a breather and sat in the chair in front of Neil. Neil, still sitting on the table, watched him in confusion. He probably expected to get yelled at, it was what he was used to. Andrew took his hands in his own.

“When I was a kid,” Andrew said. “I lived in many different homes. My mother gave me up for adoption, but she kept my brother.”

“You’ve told me this,” Neil said, his voice still small. “I’ve met Aaron, even if he wouldn’t call it that.”

“Shut up,” Andrew said. “I lived in twenty four different homes, did I tell you that? Each one, I thought was finally the one. I thought they’d keep me. And then I’d go to the next place. The funny thing is, I thought all those places were actually homes. But they weren’t. They were houses and people. Homes aren’t a place.”

Neil traced the lines of Andrew’s face with his eyes. He looked as if he’d forgotten how to speak, a feat for Neil Josten.

“That shed isn’t your home,” Andrew said, trying to underline his point.

Neil’s lips quivered into a smile. “What is my home?”

“You know what it is, jackass,” Andrew said. If this asshole made him say it, out loud, he was going to reopen his boyfriend’s stitches.

“Tell me,” Neil whispered. 

Andrew almost did, but then there was a knock at the door.

“Who is it?” Andrew yelled from the chair, thinking it was Wymack or Matt, or any number of their other acquaintances come to make sure Neil wasn’t dead. 

“It’s the Seance and Science Brigade!” An unfamiliar voice called.

In his arms, Neil tensed. Then he started trembling.

“I’m here as a representative, doing interviews with all the residents! I’ve heard there are some strange happenings on this coast,” the voice said. Whoever it was sounded entirely too cheery. And possibly female.

“Don’t answer the door,” Neil said. 

Andrew had no intention of answering the door. Even if it had been Girl Scouts, if Neil was reacting this badly to a voice, Andrew wanted nothing to do with whoever it belonged to. Except, maybe, to kill them.

“I’m busy,” Andrew said. “Come back later.”

“Sure, sure,” the voice said. “Just a few questions before I go? Are you the only one who lives here?”

“Yes,” Andrew said. “Now go away before I call the cops.”

“The cops? Out here? Good luck.” The voice started laughing, like they hadn’t just made a threat. Or perhaps, because they’d made a threat.

But they left. And then the house was quiet but for Neil’s hushed panic attack.

Andrew put a hand on the back of his neck until his shaking ceased. He pressed their sweaty foreheads together. He tried his best to remake their foundations.

+

“It probably wasn’t her,” Neil said. He was lying across Andrew’s couch with his feet in Andrew’s lap. There was a cat on his shoulder and a cup of tea in his hands. 

“So you’re telling me that your father was a serial killer with a bunch of fanatical followers and you stole money from them, then spent years on the run, before you aided in the death of him and most of his gang. But you’re pretty sure that wasn’t one of his living followers come to kill you,” Andrew said. “Why?”

“Because if that was Lola she would have kicked down the door and shot me in the head,” Neil said. He took a sip of his chamomile tea.

On one hand, this explained a lot about Neil’s personality. On the other hand, if Neil didn’t have stitches Andrew would be shaking him.

“You are not leaving this house until we know she’s gone,” Andrew said.

Neil looked like he wanted to protest for a moment, but then he sank further into the cushions. 

“Fine,” he said.

“Fine?” Andrew repeated. Nothing was ever fine with Neil.

“Fine, but you have to stay too,” Neil said, smiling into his mug.

“Where else would I go?” Andrew scoffed.

+

In the end, they got four days together before anyone disturbed them.

Four days of tea and junk food and lounging around the house. Andrew almost fooled himself into thinking that Neil had moved in with him. The lighthouse may not have been spacious, it was basically a stairwell to an overinflated light, but surrounding the stairwell was a good sized room. It was fitted with kitchen appliances, a cordoned off area for the couch and bookcases, and a large section left for Andrew’s bed and dresser. The kitchen led to the bathroom, which was had a sizeable tub and a showerhead.

Andrew relished having Neil within arms reach for days at a time. They read books and entertained the cats. Then, if they were in the mood, it was mere feet to cross to stick his hands down Neil’s pants.

Neil dutifully stayed inside when Andrew went out to weed the garden. And Andrew came back with armfuls of cucumbers and cherry tomatoes and a basket of herbs to dry for tea. He toyed with the idea of never leaving his lighthouse again. He had food, shelter, books, all of his pillows, and his boyfriend all in one place. He felt more settled than he had in many years.

Then Renee came for him.

“Aaron called Roland’s earlier, looking for you,” she said, seated at the kitchen table. 

Neil had offered her a bowl of grapes and she was chewing them mindfully.

“What did he want?” Andrew asked. He tried not to panic. Aaron was grown now, he had a wife, his own house, a fancy job. He could handle himself. 

“He wouldn’t say, just insisted we get you to Eden’s to speak with him,” Renee said. Her eyes flickered between him and Neil, no doubt confirming some bets the townspeople had likely made on them this week.

“Neil,” Andrew said. “If I go, promise me you’ll stay here with Renee.”

“Not if there’s trouble,” Neil said. He crossed his arms over his chest. He was less sore today, but Andrew could see that his shoulders were still beleaguered with discomfort.

“Neil,” Andrew said, fighting to maintain an even tone. “I can handle whatever’s going on. Promise me.”

Neil sighed. “Fine. If Renee’s here, she’ll probably sit on me anyways.”

Renee agreed heartily.

Andrew grabbed his sweater and his keys. He shoved shoes on his feet. His last look at Neil before he closed the door behind himself was of Neil sitting at the kitchen table with a cat wound around his shoulders. He was fresh from the shower, his hair damp around his temples. They’d been going to play Scrabble and Andrew had been going to crush Neil mercilessly several times in a row.

Now, Andrew closed the door and set off into the rain.

+

By the time Andrew arrived at Eden’s Twilight he was soaked. His hair was stuck to his forehead, despite his hoods best attempt to shield him, and his shoes squelched as he strode inside. He should have just come barefoot.

Roland was at the bar, because it was a bar at the moment, even though it was three in the afternoon. He was already dialling the phone as Andrew stalked towards it.

By the time Andrew had the receiver pressed to his ear, Aaron had answered.

“‘Bout time,” Aaron said. He did not sound injured or in threat of bodily harm, but depending on what he was about to say Andrew would take that into his own hands.

“Katelyn had the baby,” Aaron said.

That was not what Andrew had been expecting him to say. He sat heavily on a stool.

“Oh?” Andrew said.

“We named her Katelyn Andrea Minyard. Katie.” Aaron informed him. “She was 8 pounds even. You’re her godfather, I expect you to come meet her soon.”

Andrew swallowed. He’d never held a baby. What if he broke her. He was growing vegetables that were heavier than she was. 

Aaron cleared his throat and Andrew figured he’d been silent long enough.

“Congratulations,” he said awkwardly.

“Yeah, yeah, I just told Katelyn I’d call you,” Aaron said, equally awkward. “If you come you can even bring your dumb boyfriend.”

“Will Nicky be there?” Andrew asked, for something to ask.

“Nicky’s already here. With Erik. Being a pain.” Aaron whined. “I should get back.”

“Bye,” Andrew said.

“Bye, Andrew,” Aaron said.

Andrew sat quietly on his stool for a few minutes before Roland brought him a drink. 

“Good news or bad news?” Roland asked.

Andrew shrugged.

Roland brought him another drink. 

The rain was letting up, Andrew could hear the slowing of the pattering against Eden’s tin roof. Through the slats on the front window, a ray of light broke in.

When Dan burst into the bar, for some reason it was a surprise.

“It’s Neil,” she said, gasping for breath. She was a runner, an athlete, her biceps had biceps. If she was out of breath she must have run all the way from the docks in a panic. 

Andrew kicked off his shoes and took off at a sprint.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaand we're done! the epilogue is super short so i just stuck it in this chapter. thanks for all of your kind comments! thank you all for reading and enjoying and helping enable this completely self-indulgent mess! one day i will discover how to get fanart in here and you will all see the beautiful Andrew and chickens heather drew, one day

Neil did not intend to break his promise. He was settled into the armchair in Andrew’s house, playing Four Across with Renee, when Robin arrived.

Her face was tear-streaked and she was wringing her hands in her shirt. Neil had never seen her so visibly upset. For a child she had quite the stiff upper lip and was more prone to raising her voice than crying.

“Andrew’s hurt,” she said, more tears overflowing and dripping off her chin.

Neil’s blood ran cold. Lola.

“Where?” Neil asked.

“What happened, Robin?” Renee asked.

“The docks, he—”

But Neil was already gone. Renee was shouting after him to wait, she was probably struggling to put on shoes. Neil was barefoot, Neil was in his sleep shorts, his hair was still wet from the shower. Now he was muddy from the trail and soaked from the rain, his clothes clinging to this skin. Normally it took him twenty minutes to walk to the docks from the lighthouse. He arrived in a blur. The Palmetto crew was loading for the night shift. They all looked up when he pelted down the dock.

Wymack caught him by the shoulders.

“Hey, now, Abby told me you still have three more days before you can join us,” Wymack said, trying to turn him back toward land.

“Andrew— Robin said.” Neil wheezed. “Andrew is hurt.”

Wymack’s hands tightened on his shoulders.

“Where? Here?” he said, looking around.

The docks were quiet but for the random interjection from the seagulls and the Palmetto’s bumpers smacking the posts. No one else was on their boats at the moment, if Andrew had been hurt here Neil’s crew would have noticed by now.

Neil felt confusion sweeping aside his terror.

Renee and Robin finally caught up to him. They stopped just before the docks, gasping for breath in the parking lot. The crew surrounded them.

It was hard to get a word in, everyone had questions. Neil’s head felt like it was swirling with how many inquiries and jabs were being thrown back and forth. For once, he did not appreciate his crews hyperactivity and propensity for getting involved. He took a deep breath and while everyone was busy quizzing Renee, he steered Robin to the outskirts of the crowd and crouched in front of her.

“Robin, where’s Andrew? How was he hurt?” Neil said.

“I didn’t—” Robin hiccupped. “I didn’t see him. I was playing on the rocks and a lady said he was dying and to go get you.”

“A lady?” Neil asked.

Robin nodded. “She was laughing. She kept saying Andrew was hurt and she was laughing.”

Neil swiped his thumbs under Robin’s eyes.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he said.

Car tires screeched around the bend as a car peeled into the parking lot. Neil turned and shoved Robin into Wymack’s arms. Someone shouted his name but all Neil could process was the searing pain in his side and his head.

He closed his eyes.

+

He was awake a few moments later when Lola crouched over him.

He reeled back. Everything ached. Someone had his head in their lap. Neil looked up and realized it was Matt. Most of his friends, his crew, were surrounding him. They were all in different stages of distress.

Lola. Lola was here. They needed to get away.

He tried to speak but all that came out was a groan.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart,” Lola was saying. She was holding back her cheer over his incapacitation well. Her face was pinched in worry, she reached forward and pushed some hair out of his face. “I lost control, going around that corner.”

“Dan went to get Andrew, he’ll take you to the hospital,” Wymack said.

“Dad,” Robin said.

“Neil? Can you hear us? What hurts?” Matt said.

“There’s no need to get another car,” Lola said. “I can take him, it will be faster.”

Neil tried to say something, but it felt like his head was imploding. He could feel every hair on his body throbbing in unison.

“Who are you again?” Wymack asked. He sounded angry.

“Dad,” Robin said.

“Seance and Science Brigade,” Lola said, shaking Wymack’s hand. “I have ID. I can get him into the hospital fast, I know a doctor there.”

Wymack glowered at her. Then he looked down at Neil.

“No,” Neil tried to say, but it came out as a groan.

“Dad!” Robin shouted. Everyone quieted and looked at her, she was tugging Wymack’s coat sleeve almost off his shoulder. “This lady told me Andrew was hurt. She made me bring Neil here.”

It was funny. One second they’d been looking at Lola and she was picture of honest concern and guilt: watery eyes, voice shaking, eyebrows scrunched. Now, she was smiling. She looked like she’d won the lottery. She was probably sad about her plans going askew but she was so happy Neil was hurting. That she was so close to killing him.

She reached for her gun.

Neil tried to leap up and stop her but he barely lifted his neck before his whole back ignited with new agony.

He could imagine Lola drawing her weapon, hurting everyone he cared about. Most of them right here, in one place. Victims just because they’d sheltered him and gave him a purpose and made him a home. Andrew was right. Homes weren’t places or things, they were the people you loved most.

He’d never meant to love anyone else after his mother. And he didn’t even think he’d loved her quite as much as he loved the people gathered in this circle. As Andrew.

Matt, recognizing the danger, bowed his body over Neil’s to shield him. They were all about to die for each other.

Then Wymack darted forward, he grabbed Lola’s arm and wrenched it back. Her gun clattered to the ground. They struggled for a moment, Lola slower than normal out of shock. Before Renee stepped in and restrained her smoothly. She lowered Lola to the ground while Allison went to retrieve rope to bind her with.

“Stay away from that, Robin,” Wymack said, seizing the gun from the ground. He meticulously took it apart, like he’d done so a thousand times. He dumped the bullets in front of Lola’s whammied face.

Neil wasn’t sure what to think. He contemplated that maybe he was hallucinating due to his head injury.

Wymack must have noticed his confusion.

“What?” he said, grinning. “You thought you were the only one with secrets?”

+

When Andrew arrived, Neil was honestly a little more afraid of his wrath than Lola’s.

Lola was prostrate on the concrete, her forearms and calves tied with strong netting rope, and her mouth covered in duct tape. Renee and Allison sat on her back, Renee holding a slim switchblade to her throat.

Andrew was not tied up or sat on. He arrived barefoot and panting. At his sides, his hands shook and Neil could tell he wanted to be holding his knives. It was still a relief to see that he was okay.

When it became apparent that Lola was handled and no one would allow him to kill her, Andrew threw himself next to Neil and put his hands to his cheeks. He nearly slapped him in order to cradle his face.

“Ouch,” Neil said.

“You’re an idiot,” Andrew said. “I’m going to take you to the hospital and then I’m going to murder you.”

“Okay,” Neil managed to croak.

Matt grabbed his shoulders and Dan grabbed his feet and together they got him in the backseat of Lola’s fancy car. The engine was still running. The seats felt expensive, all airy, supple leather now soaked with Neil’s blood.

Andrew crawled in behind him and lifted Neil’s head into his lap. Robin crawled in too and did the same with Neil’s feet. In the driver’s seat Matt stared at the gearstick as if it was a snake.

“Problem, Boyd?” Andrew snapped, grinding his teeth.

“Nope, just occurred to me that this car costs more than everything in this town combined. But whatever. That lady is going to jail forever,” Matt said. He put the car in drive and stepped on the gas. Every time the speedometer slipped under seventy miles per hour Andrew caught Matt’s eyes in the rearview mirror and gave a gutteral snarl.

“You should probably be driving,” Neil said. His voice sounded small and whispery to his own ears. He could tell the sound of it was setting Andrew on edge.

“Shut up,” Andrew said. He was carefully pushing the hair back from Neil’s face. “I can’t believe you. I told you to stay in the house. You promised me.”

Andrew was normally fairly collected. Months ago, he told Neil that as a result of the drugs he’d been forced to take as a teenager, his own emotions often felt like strangers. He also had trouble trusting people after being betrayed and trampled so many times. It was easier for him to compartmentalize his emotions and deal with them on his own terms. Namely, in therapy or on quiet summer mornings with Neil. Now, Neil could see the emotions cracking through Andrew’s apathetic veneer. His face was wet from the earlier rain, but there were some fresh tears mingling there too.

It was Neil’s fault Andrew’s control was slipping, and he felt worse about that than he did about the probable internal bleeding and his pounding head.

He tried to explain, but his tongue was limp and useless in his mouth. His vision was fuzzy. He felt like his brain was slowly switching between radio stations, he could just barely hear what was going on in the car over the static.

“It was my fault,” Robin said, softly.

Neil had forgotten she was there.

“The lady told me you were hurt and to get Neil, so I brought him to the docks.” Her breath hitched and she started crying.

Neil wished he could wipe her tears away again.

Andrew was silent for a moment, still brushing Neil’s hair back. He’d tilted his face up, so Neil couldn’t see what he was thinking.

“Robin,” Andrew said. “Yes or no?”

Robin looked at him in confusion for a moment. She knew what that meant, she’d heard Andrew and Neil say that to each enough times to understand.

“Yes,” she said.

Andrew reached over and squeezed her shoulder.

“It’s okay,” he said. “You couldn’t have known. She was a bad woman and what happened is her fault.”

Robin watched him carefully for a moment and then, seemed to be finally done with tears. She snuffed all the mucus back into her nose and wiped her face on her t-shirt. Andrew squeezed her shoulder again and then let go.

“That was really touching,” Matt said.

“Shut the fuck up, Boyd,” Andrew said.

“Fuck!” Robin shouted.

All three men groaned. Although Neil groaned mostly from physical pain.

Luckily, they’d arrived at the hospital.

+

The hospital in Columbia was big and clean and full of people who were angry that three muddy men and a child had parked a Maserati on the curb outside the ER. Once they realized that one of the men was grievously injured, however, they sucked in their ire for long enough to send out a stretcher.

Two burly RNs lifted Neil onto the litter. Matt and Robin retreated to move the car. Then the RNs began wheeling Neil through the doors too fast for Neil to keep track of where Andrew was.

Neil called for him as loud as he could manage and Andrew appeared again, at his side. Before they could wheel him to a room, the nurses stopped to attempt to persuade Andrew into staying behind.

“Sir,” an RN said, “you can’t come through here. You have to stay in the waiting room.”

Mercifully, before Andrew could fight anyone, Aaron appeared on the opposite side of the stretcher.

“Andrew?” he was saying, “I didn’t expect you to come so fast— Oh.”

He’d looked down. Upon registering it was Neil who was laid out and bloodied his nose wrinkled in disgust.

“Josten,” he said. “Why am I not surprised.”

“He was sideswiped by a car,” Andrew said. “He hit his head.”

“Get him to X-Ray,” Aaron ordered the RNs. “Take him with you,” he pointed at Andrew, “He’ll be a monster otherwise. Are you barefoot?”

Andrew looked down at his feet. He was, indeed, barefoot. His brother knew him well.

Andrew shrugged.

Aaron grumbled all the while removing his own shoes, he shoved them at Andrew. Then returned to his post at the nurse’s station.

Being led further into the hospital, Andrew trotting by his side, with the promise of painkillers on the horizon, Neil finally allowed himself to close his eyes and sleep.

+

When Neil woke up, he was propped on a different bed in a private room. A heart monitor was beeping steadily, his headache had lessened to a dull throb, he was covered in bandages, he could hear an IV dripping, and Andrew was watching him from the chair at his side.

Andrew’s arms were crossed. Someone had given him scrubs and he’d washed his face and arms of mud, so he looked very much like Aaron. But even though they were identical twins, Neil would have known Andrew’s face anywhere.

Andrew had less creases around his eyes because he wore sunscreen and moisturized and didn’t work in an ER. His hair was always a little askew when he wasn’t dressing up to go out for the night. He broke his nose in juvie and there was a small bump in the center that Neil liked to run his finger over, when Andrew let him. He had a freckle on his bottom lip that Neil also liked to bite, when Andrew let him. And, of course, even when he looked angry with Neil, like right now, he never looked morally offended by Neil’s existence like Aaron did. He looked like a man who’d saddled himself with a trouble-seeking runaway and he was trying to figure out how to clothe Neil in bubble wrap.

“Hey,” Neil said. “Do you want to move in together?”

“Idiot,” Andrew said, reaching across the blankets for Neil’s hand. “Like I was gonna give you a choice after this.”

Neil smirked, Andrew was such a liar. He always gave Neil a choice.

“What’s the damage?” he asked.

“Internal bleeding, concussion, ten stitches on your left side, road rash, a couple more stitches on your forehead, and a fracture in your left femur,” Andrew said. “Could have been worse.”

Neil chuckled a little and then looked at where Andrew was rubbing his thumb over Neil’s wrist. Checking his pulse.

“Andrew,” Neil said. “Lola probably isn’t the only one out there.”

Andrew nodded. “And?”

“I want to stay with you. With everyone. But what if it isn’t safe?”

Andrew was quiet for a minute. His jaw worked back and forth. There was still some mud in his hair and it was drying in weird directions, the sight almost made Neil want to smile.

“Stay,” Andrew said. “We can all handle ourselves on the Forgotten Coast. If someone comes for you they won’t come away in one piece.”

“Okay,” Neil said, looking up at the ceiling. He really didn’t want to cry with both of his hands wrapped in gauze, but it may have been inevitable. Anyway, if he did he was sure Andrew would wipe his tears away.

Before they could say anything else, the rest of the Forgotten Coast barged into his hospital room. They were all in different states of distress, they were all dirty, and they were all talking at once. He didn’t know how’d they all fit in three cars.

Neil couldn’t figure out what was being said in all the chaos. It wasn’t until Dan squeezed his shoulders and asked if he was alright, that he figured out a place to start.

“I’m gonna be fine,” he said to her, “we won.”

“Yeah, Neil,” Dan said, smiling wider than he’d ever seen her smile. “We won.”

+

From Andrew’s couch, Neil directed Matt, Dan, and Renee on where to put his things. In the seven months he’d lived on the Forgotten Coast he’d accumulated very little. But out of the twelve people that had volunteered to help him move into Andrew’s, Neil would have felt bad only choosing one. So three of his friends were wandering around with a box each, dispersing clothes, books, and board games in their appropriate places.

Fifteen minutes later, when they were finished, they all settled around Neil on the couch.

King and Sir, who, despite Andrew’s best efforts, refused to reinstate themselves in the cat gang, laid across their laps and made themselves comfortable.

“Where’s Andrew?” Dan asked, after a few minutes of debating with Matt what to have for lunch.

Neil shrugged. After discharging Neil from the hospital last night and getting him settled in bed, Andrew had kissed him firmly on the lips and said he’d be back. He’d left in his appropriated Maserati. It had been ten hours since then and Neil was sure he would have been told if Andrew was planning on being gone more than a day. But he planned not to worry about it until after lunch.

While Matt was busy making them a tall stack of grilled cheese sandwiches, with Dan and Renee surveying from the counter, Andrew arrived.

He was wearing the same clothes he’d worn the night before and he was holding a small box and a piece of paper. He threw the box at Neil.

“Put that on,” Andrew said.

Neil frowned at the box, he snatched it from his lap before King could steal it. Inside was a ring.

“Uh, Andrew?” Neil asked, perplexed.

“I got this at town hall,” Andrew said, shoving the paper in Neil’s face. It was a marriage license. It was already notarized.

“Don’t I have to be there for this part?” Neil asked, frowning at his forged signature.

Andrew shrugged. “I managed,” he said.

It wasn’t until Neil was slipping on the ring that everyone in the kitchen realized what was happening.

“Engaged!” Matt shouted. “Did you just propose?”

“That was the least romantic thing I’ve ever seen,” Dan said, taking another bite of her sandwich.

“It was just the right amount of romance for them,” Renee said, sweetly but a tad sarcastically.

“You said you’d stay,” Andrew muttered. He twined their fingers together. It didn’t sound like a question, but Neil knew it was. Andrew always gave him a choice.

“Yes,” Neil agreed, squeezing his hand, “I will.”

 

> \+ Epilogue

As soon as Neil regained the ability to sit up without passing out, Andrew caught him trying to escape from the hospital. He was seemingly taking a breather from putting his sneakers on—he had one on and one untied and both hands on his knees in the middle of his hospital room. When he realized what Neil had been attempting, Andrew sighed and put down his bag.

It wasn’t until he’d placed a hand on the back of Neil’s neck that Neil finally decided to sit. They sat across from each other on the grimy linoleum floor. Andrew wasn’t sure if they were trying to pretend that Neil hadn’t been having a panic attack. But he let Neil have his silence for a few more minutes, before nudging his knee.

“I don’t like hospitals,” Neil said, soft.

“Does anyone?” Andrew asked.

“Aaron,” Neil said.

Andrew’s immediate noise of disgust almost helped bring a smile to Neil’s lips.

“Speaking of Aaron,” Andrew said. He stood up without explaining further and grabbed the folded wheelchair from the corner of the room. He set it up and wheeled it towards Neil, prodding him with the front wheels.

“That isn’t what I had in mind,” Neil said.

Andrew shrugged. “We have to go at some point.”

Once Neil was situated, Andrew made him carry the bag he’d brought. Their journey to the maternity ward was quiet. Andrew got lost around the cafeteria, he ended up buying them both hot chocolate for their trouble. Neil took a couple sips of it and then let it sit untouched in his lap.

By the time they made it to Katelyn’s room Nicky had left for the day, which was honestly the best news Andrew had received all week.

It was just Katelyn, cradling the baby in her arms, and Aaron, but he was thoroughly asleep where he was tucked next to Katelyn in her cot.

Katelyn smiled upon seeing them, she ushered them in. Andrew took the bag from Neil’s arms and arranged the giant stuffed cat he’d brought among the assortment of stuffed animals that had accumulated in Katelyn’s room the past few days.

By the time he turned back around Katelyn had managed to quietly yet firmly demand Neil hold the baby. Neil was tense, one hand supporting the baby’s head, the other wrapped all the way around her like he was afraid if he didn’t tie her to his chest she would fall. She was sleeping soundly, but as they all watched she gurgled and began drooling down her neck. Neil wiped the drool with shirt, Andrew could tell he was already attached.

Later, they’d talk about the panic attack.

Later, he’d drink Neil’s hot chocolate.

Later, he’d promise Neil he would discharge him as soon as he could.

Later, he would let Neil know that he wanted him around for as long as he would stay.

Now, he reached out for his turn holding the baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the most illegal thing Andrew did in this whole fic was get married wo witnesses or his groom present. incredible. show stopping. amazing. i'm so proud. thanks again for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> :)
> 
> lovely fanart by squidwithelbows.tumblr.com: https://www.flickr.com/photos/161025304@N07/shares/651408


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